The Spectator and the Muses

Acquainted #11 – Mates

I remember this couple who made up a nice person. Seriously, only together did they qualify as nice, and as a full person. Nobody would remember them individually, for she would do nothing outrageous that would glue her to memory, while he would do everything that people had to block out in order to avoid going insane. Together, they were unforgettable.

She was the girl-next-door everybody would like to have had. He was OK.He wanted to be a rock star. She wouldn’t judge him for that.She wanted to change the world. He would follow her until the end of it.Simply put, they were a man and a woman.

At times, they would ask themselves what brought them together, why they couldn’t help falling in love. “Because you’re everything I’m not.” The answer, given to each other every time, always felt easy and right.

Their friends didn’t quite understand how they were together. However, nobody questioned it too hard—why question that which works, even in its own weird fashion? Why question when love comes to town?

I guess that, perhaps, they proved how sometimes two hearts beat as one amidst the vertigo of life. Or maybe they proved that love has its mysterious ways, for it is not only blind like justice, but also a bit retarded like a three-year-old.